Okay, so I am the least likely person to get up on a soap box about foul language, but enough is enough. Let me preface the following rant with the admittance that yes, I did shout "Pass the Damn Macaroni" several times at the dinner table at age 3 while my Baptist Minister Grandfather sat at the table, but come on...the "F" word is out of control.
So on Tuesday morning, after my second day of Boot Camp, I returned home for an hour or so before work. Normally I would have headed back to the bed, but our Beagle had thrown up on the sheets that morning and the sheets were in the laundry, so I crashed on the couch. Gross, I know.
As I sat waiting for the picture on the TV to come on, I listened to the sound of Good Morning America... although usually I'm a Today Show guy. Already tuned-in to something about politics or another topic of interest, I decided to leave it on ABC. Up next was Diane Keaton...one of my favorite actresses. She has a knack for playing the classy, well-dressed, well-groomed mother, wife, career person, and friend in pretty much every role she has ever been given. Father of the Bride I and II were favorites in our house when I was a teenager, and we still sit down to watch them occasionally when we're all at home.
So, imagine my surprise, disdain, and disgust when Diane blurted out something about having to work on her "F*****g Personality" on national TV. Immediately, Diane Sawyer turned towards the camera, obviously shocked, covered her mouth with her hand, and everything went dead and straight to commercial. No reference was made to the incident when they returned, no apology made, no comment whatsoever.
My stock in Mrs. Keaton fell to somewhere below Brittney Spears, Michael Jackson, and Paris Hilton.
Hours later, still seething from having to hear that on national television, Jenny and I eagerly sat down in front of American Idol for two hours of tone deaf, somewhat talented, and largely foul-mouthed nut job personalities displayed to millions of viewers. Those of you who watched are surely wondering with me this morning just what the producers and security personnel were thinking when they allowed the sicko who sang the Stalker Song to Paula Abdul happen in the first place, much less make it onto the air.
To the producers, to the preliminary judges, and to the three judges in the room, I say that I am saddened to see you so willingly give insanity center stage and hand out humiliation to those who are obviously not ever going to make it to Hollywood.
And to you, Miss "I am studying to be a veterinarian but cannot complete a coherent sentence of more than four words" I say that, no, you do not have the right voice for the competition, but I will agree with Simon in that you probably do have the level of talent to sing in some sort of band. Should I hear one day that you are a successful lead singer in a band in a large urban setting playing mostly night clubs, bars, and discotheques, I'll not be surprised.
But to you, to Princess Leia, to you, chest hair-waxing belly dancer boy, and the rest of you who displayed your hostility so publicly - I could have done without the incessant stream of beeps which attempted, quite in vain, to cover your streams of profanity.
My solution to the problem should be to never watch the show again, or at least agree to not watch the auditions where the language fount never runs dry. But like so many Americans who are Idol-obsessed, and yes, even like you Princess Leia...I will probably tune in again tonight.
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